


Christmas Morning

by Artemisausten



Category: The Gentlemen (2019)
Genre: Christmas Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Holidays, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28161957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemisausten/pseuds/Artemisausten
Summary: It's Christmas morning and you want to sleep in.But Ray’s not the type to give up that easily. Not when he’s gone out of his way to make you a special breakfast. Certainly not when he’s spent weeks trying to pick out exactly the right thing to get you this year. He moves toward the bed and gazes down at you through his glasses, readjusting them for a moment as he debates the best course of action. Finally, he takes a step toward the bed and grabs a handful of blanket, moving it enough to give him access to you, and starts to climb on. “You know…I have ways of making you get up.”
Relationships: Raymond Smith/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Christmas Morning

It’s Christmas.

_Ugh_ , _it’s Christmas_?

You roll over and pull the spare pillow over your head, breathing in the scent of Ray as you try to hide from Christmas morning. The pillow still smells faintly from where he’d been sleeping on it not very long ago—that smokey mixture of the balm he uses in his beard at night and his favorite shampoo, and something else you can never quite put your finger on, that distinctly _male_ smell of Ray. It’s heady and soothing and almost enough to lull you back into sleep the longer you hold the pillow there, even as your hand pinning it in place starts to relax so that the pillow falls out of position.

You love that smell, you think quietly. You love this pillow, and this bed, and everything about being with Ray.

Well, okay—almost everything. “Are you really going to sleep in?”

“Ugggmmmmmm….” You’re not as fond of Ray’s penchant for early mornings and dragging you out of bed to face the day before you’re ready.

“It’s already sunny out there and I made breakfast,” Ray says, stepping further into the room and maneuvering around the clothes you abandoned on the floor the night before. It’s a habit that he finds frustrating, to say he least, but that Ray has determined not to let bother him on this sunny Christmas morning. Not when the world outside is covered in a fresh layer of snow and the sun is reflecting off it in the windows, and he’s just made the perfect breakfast for two. He pulls the shades open to let a little light in, half hoping to wake you up enough to force you out of bed. “See? And there’s fresh snow.” He turns to give you a little smirk that you can’t see because you’re still hiding under the pillow. His voice takes that rough edge, the one he knows you can’t resist, even on early mornings. “Don’t you want to get up?”

You’re tempted. You’re _definitely_ tempted when he uses that voice. “No.” You’re just not that tempted—not when it’s cold and the bed is cozy and warm, and you don’t really like Christmas mornings. You’re perfectly content to stay right where you are.

But Ray’s not the type to give up that easily. Not when he’s gone out of his way to make you a special breakfast. Certainly not when he’s spent weeks trying to pick out exactly the right thing to get you this year. He moves toward the bed and gazes down at you through his glasses, readjusting them for a moment as he debates the best course of action. Finally, he takes a step toward the bed and grabs a handful of blanket, moving it enough to give him access to you, and starts to climb on. “You know…I have _ways_ of making you get up.”

A lazy smile tugs at your lips as feel Ray inch further and further up the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight as he pins a hand on either side of you and drags his long body across yours. “Mmmmmmmm…” It’s supposed to come out as a sound of protest, but when you hear yourself respond, you think it’s much closer to a moan. It’s hard not too, though, when he settles above you, one leg nestled between both of yours and nudging them open slightly. You clench your eyes closed tightly against the morning light as Ray tugs the pillow away and smirks down at you, his normally perfectly smoothed back hair falling loose as you slowly meet his gaze. You huff, trying to look serious and like he’s not getting to you.

Even if he is…he really, _really_ is.

“Do you have something against getting an extra hour of sleep?” Or three, you mentally add. You’d prefer three extra hours. Hell, it’s the holiday—why get up before noon at all?

He shifts above you and you feel a rush of heat wherever his body makes contact with yours. You can feel him hard against your hips, the feel of him pressing against you waking up your body completely. He leans down and brushes his lips against yours, speaking in a low, deep voice. “I just want to give your Christmas present.”

You move underneath him, purposely teasing at him as you move your hips to grind against him a little. “You already gave me that present _last night_ ,” you reply against his mouth, unable to stop the half-smile, half-laugh. “Twice.”

Ray’s smirk grows into a grin, predatory and hungry as his lifts one hand to trail over your exposed midriff from where your shirt was pulled up from sleeping, ghosting over skin that’s prickling from the cool air and Ray’s almost touch as he moves lower, reaching into the waist band of your pajama pants. “So, what you’re saying is,” he pauses to kiss you, claiming your lips in a kiss that seems to steal your breath and nipping at your bottom lip, “I need to be more creative with this morning’s present.”

You want to reply with something sharp and witty, something that would Ray pause and gaze at you in sheer awe and appreciation for you, but the words—whatever they were, you can’t think of them now—quickly get lost as his mouth starts to move downward, leaving little nipping, sucking kisses over your neck and collarbone while his hand tugs your pants downward. You’re a little disappointed when his mouth skips over the part of your body covered by your shirt entirely, almost whining at the loss of contact before you realize why Ray pulled away. He shifts a little further down on the bed as you watch him, eyes heavy with lust from his kissing. He gives you a long, dark look as he reaches for the waistband of your pants, hooking his fingers around your panties as he drags them down and you shift your hips and legs to help him. If the bed felt cozy and warm before, it feels like it’s burning up now. Or maybe it’s just you when you settle back down into the bed and watch Ray, throwing your clothes somewhere in the room—the only time he doesn’t care about being neat—and lets his gaze drag over every inch of you.

He likes seeing you like this, he thinks. Your lips swollen, your body ready as he towers over you, your stomach expanding and contracting with each unsteady breath as you anticipate what he’ll do next—where and how he’s going to touch you.

He’d meant to wake you up and sit down with you at the table for a nice breakfast, but as he moves his mouth toward the inside of your thighs and tugs your legs open as wide as you’ll let him, he thinks that breakfast can probably wait. Or at least that he’ll have another meal first.

**Author's Note:**

> I was in a mood. Comments and kudos are always appreciated as I live for external validation.
> 
> And I can also be found on tumblr @artemisausten!


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